


Objects in the Rear-view Mirror

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry wanking, M/M, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris isn't exactly sure how they got here, how they went from sitting in his SUV, snapping at each other, to Peter Hale's hand wrapped around his dick as he jerks Chris off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objects in the Rear-view Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Based off a prompt from 1234halefire: _Hate!sex: Petopher have an angry mutual jerk off session in Chris' car while they're on a night time stake out._

Chris isn't exactly sure how they got here, how they went from sitting in his SUV, snapping at each other, to Peter Hale's hand wrapped around his dick as he jerks Chris off.

The pack had paired off in order to carry out the surveillance on the coven that had moved into town. He'd ended up partnered with Peter simply because no one else would, and Chris was the one least likely to kill the wolf after six hours in a car with him.

The night had started off easy enough. Neither of them had spoken to the other, and that had suited Chris just fine. It had suited him right up until the moment Peter started fidgeting, huffed out sighs coming from him every couple of minutes.

"Damn it, Hale, just shut up and keep still!" Chris had snapped.

"I'm bored, Argent," had been the only response. "Unlike you, some of us weren't raised as little soldiers, carrying out drill after drill in the art of _not being incredibly bored_."

"Look, there's only another couple of hours left, and then you're free to go and carry out whatever ridiculous and nefarious schemes you're currently planning," Chris had replied.

Peter had glared at him, eventually settling back into the passenger seat with a muttered "My plans are not ridiculous."

The silence had only lasted until Chris picked up the binoculars to check on the dark, quiet house they were keeping watch over.

"Let me guess," came the comment, as Chris focused on each of the windows, "absolutely no movement at all. Funny that," Peter had continued. "Given that it's 3:00am and most sensible people, like our coven apparently are, are all in bed."

"Hale," Chris had ground out, the annoyance he'd been feeling bleeding into his tone.

"Oh for god's sake, Argent, you can't honestly tell me that you don't have better things to do than sit here all night!"

Well, of course he had better things to do. Not that he was going to admit that to Peter.

It had escalated from there, with the two of them snapping at each other, flinging barb after barb until they'd just stopped, eyes wide and breathing heavily.

Chris had been hard behind his jeans, and a quick glance at Peter's crotch had shown that he wasn't the only one.

There'd been silence for a brief moment before their lips had clashed together. And Chris isn't sure which one of them had moved first, which one of them had reached out just that split second sooner, but it didn't matter. All that matters is Peter's fingers wrapped around Chris' cock, tight and hot.

Peter's fumbling with his own jeans as he jerks Chris off, and Chris knocks his hand out of the way, tugging at Peter's belt and hissing as Peter's thumb brushes over his cockhead.

After only a few seconds, Chris has Peter's dick in his hand, thick and curved and heavy on his palm.

"Is this what you want?" Peter growls, his voice low. "To be a hunter with his dick in a wolf's hand?"

"Shut up, Hale," Chris answers, squeezing his fingers tightly, smirking at the grunt Peter gives.

There are no more words beyond snapped out orders, beyond "Harder, you bastard--" and "Fucking knew you wanted it--"

The windows in the SUV are fogging up, harsh panted out breath steaming the air as each of them chases their own release in the other's hand.

Peter falls first, his grip tightening on Chris' cock as he comes, trails of white splattering over Chris' fingers.

And Chris doesn't know if it's the feel of Peter on his skin, or the sound Peter makes when he comes, loud and throaty, and making Chris want to pin him down and drive into him, but Chris is coming bare seconds later, marking Peter's skin the way Peter marked his.

Peter moves away, slumping back into the passenger seat, as Chris closes his eyes, the sound of heavy breathing the only noise in the SUV. Peter's silent, too silent, and Chris opens his eyes to look over at him. Peter's not looking at him, is too busy focusing on his hand, cleaning Chris' come off his skin with kitten licks. And Chris' cock gives a valiant effort at reacting to the sight of Peter Hale licking Chris' come off his fingers, but he's too old to get hard again so soon after coming.

Wiping his hand on his jeans, and staining the denim with Peter's release, Chris tucks himself away. He glances over at Peter, at the wolf who looks far too put together for someone who just jerked Chris off.

Chris wonders what he should say, wonders whether a "So, hey, that happened--" is necessary, or if they're just going to ignore this and deny it ever occurred. (Chris finds himself hoping not, finds himself strangely willing for this to happen again.)

"Peter--"

But Chris is cut off by the knocking on the window, sharp and sudden and making his heart pound.

John Stilinski's leaning against the SUV when Chris rolls the window down. And Chris is acutely aware that the inside of the car smells like a teenage boy's bedroom, full of come and frustration.

"Anything happen tonight?" John asks.

"No, nothing," Chris answers, far too quickly by the way John's looking at him.

"Okay," John says, not asking the question Chris can tell he wants to. "Get yourself home," he finally says, "we'll take over from here." He nods to a car parked behind the SUV, small and non-descript, with Jordan Parrish sitting in the passenger seat.

Chris can't help but be relieved that it's John taking over from them. He knows that if it had been any of the teenagers, then that question wouldn't have remained unasked.

He waits until John is walking away before turning his attention back to Peter, but when he looks over, Peter is gone, out of the SUV and leaving nothing but the quickly dissipating heat from his body against the leather seat.

"Fuck," Chris says, dropping his head to rest on the steering wheel. "Fuck."

Taking a breath, Chris looks up and out of the window of the passenger side. He doesn't know which way Peter will have gone, doesn't know what the wolf was thinking as he slipped out of the car while Chris was talking to John.

He doesn't know, but he's going to find out. But until then, he slides his car key into the ignition and starts the drive home.


End file.
